


Show Off Your Natural Hue

by CandyQueenAO3



Series: Ineffable Celestials [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyQueenAO3/pseuds/CandyQueenAO3
Summary: Aziraphale just continued staring into the middle distance. He didn’t so much as twitch when Crowley’s arms came to pull him flush against his body.“Talk to me, angel. What happened? Are you hurt?”“I...Crowley, I...I think I’m Falling,” Aziraphale whispered into his husband’s chest.*~*~*~*~*After a lovely day out at the zoo, then a nice Italian dinner, Aziraphale starts experiencing some changes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Celestials [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674949
Comments: 31
Kudos: 180





	Show Off Your Natural Hue

Crowley felt the bed shift as the body beside him sat up. He rolled over and tried to pull it back down to the mattress.

“‘S too early, angel. Go back to sleep,” he grumbled.

Aziraphale chuckled and kissed the top of the fiery head of hair he loved so much. “It’s 8am, dearest. That’s not ‘too early’.”

“It is for me. If waking up involves doing so  _ any time before 12 _ I want  _ no  _ part in it,”

“Not even for a fresh slice of sourdough toast?”

Crowley made a brief noise of consideration. That was all the answer needed for Aziraphale, who got out of bed to pad across the room to the attached bathroom. While angels and demons didn’t strictly  _ need  _ to bathe, the allure of a warm early-morning shower was simply too great a temptation to pass up. Aziraphale, in particular, was  _ especially  _ fond of how the heat and pressure of the water from the powerful showerheads felt against his wings.

Crowley dozed and listened to the sounds of their large, walk-in shower turning on. He briefly wondered if climbing in there with his husband would be too forward. Probably not.

As the demon made a move to get up and do so, the stillness of their home was shattered by an ear rending  _ shriek. _

“Aziraphale!!”

Crowley stumbled out of bed and bolted for the bathroom. He didn’t bother to waste time summoning a miracle to open the door, just rammed his shoulder into it hard enough to dislodge one of the hinges.

He wasn’t sure  _ what  _ he expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t his husband sitting in one corner of the shower, naked, knees drawn up to his chest and eyes staring blankly ahead. Crowley stepped under the spray, undeterred by the fact that he was still wearing his good, silk pajamas that would surely be ruined by the water.

Aziraphale just continued staring into the middle distance. He didn’t so much as  _ twitch _ when Crowley’s arms came to pull him flush against his body.

“ _ Talk  _ to me, angel. What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I...Crowley, I...I think I’m  _ Falling _ ,” Aziraphale whispered into his husband’s chest.

The rush of blood in Crowley’s ears drowned out the thundering of water against the tile of the bathroom and the angel’s faint whimpers.

“No.  _ No. _ You can’t  _ possibly  _ be Falling. I mean...we averted Armageddon a  _ decade _ ago, and we’ve been married for 6,000 years and- and- you know doing  _ other stuff  _ for just as long. So why now? Why would She cast you out  _ now _ ?”

The demon was vehement, but Aziraphale just shook his head woefully.

“I don’t  _ know _ , Crowley.  _ I don’t know!” _

Crowley took a fortifying breath before asking, “Why do you think you’re Falling?”

“My  _ wings!” _ Aziraphale sobbed in reply.

The demon peered over his husband’s shoulder to stare at where his wings would sprout from his back if he had them out. “Angel...let me see them,” he said slowly.

Aziraphale just shook his head, water wicking off his limp curls. Crowley pressed a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“ _ Please _ , angel. It’ll be alright,  _ I promise _ . I’ve got you,”

Aziraphale gave one long, shuddering exhale before bringing his wings into their current plane of existence. The one closest to the open shower door, his right, extended fully out from under the spray and into the expanse of their bathroom.

“Oh...that’s- er…” Crowley muttered.

His angel’s wings looked largely the same. There were no charred, blackened feathers (though they were in their usual dishevelled appearance) nor broken flight bones peeking through ruined flesh. The only difference, really, was their  _ color  _ and it was…

“My wings are  _ pink!!” _ wailed Aziraphale.

Crowley could only stare at the garish color with his mouth hanging open. Sure enough, his wings were a darker shade of cerise near the shoulder and faded out towards the primaries into a soft carnation. As the demon, soaked under the showerhead and struck dumb, tried to reboot his brain, Aziraphale continued his lamentations.

“Just  _ look  _ at them!” he sobbed. “They’ll probably darken to a  _ horrific  _ blood-red before the day is out, mark my words!”

Crowley reached out and plucked a rosy piece of down. He examined it from all angles before letting it get swept down the drain.

“Angel...I  _ really  _ don’t think you’re Falling. There’s usually quite a bit more  _ fire  _ involved,” he mumbled, watching as Aziraphale tucked his wings closer to himself.

“What else could it  _ be  _ if not Falling? Angelic wings don’t just spontaneously change colour overnight.  _ Especially  _ not when the angel in question doesn’t expect them to,”

Crowley snapped his fingers to first turn off the shower (which, by now, had thoroughly soaked him) and then again to conjure a fluffy blue towel to dry Aziraphale’s hair. 

“I mean...think back to yesterday. Was there  _ anything  _ you could have done to cause this? Is it some kind of ethereal mating display or something? Did you maybe injure them when I wasn’t looking?” the demon asked as he ran the towel over his angel’s head.

Aziraphale huffed a little at the insinuation he would be clumsy enough to damage his own wings without noticing (he absolutely was). “Nothing out of the ordinary, dearest. If you recall, we spent a lovely morning at the zoo and  _ you _ tried to sink the flamingoes to see if they would sink like the ducks at St. James do,” Crowley snickered and Aziraphale went on. “Then afterwards we had a nice lunch at that Italian restaurant we’d been meaning to visit for a while. Their Shrimp Orzo was simply  _ magnificent,  _ dearest, I can’t  _ thank  _ you enough for suggesting it to me-”

Crowley leapt to his feet like the puddle he’d been kneeling in suddenly turned to Holy Water.

“ _ Holy shit, angel!  _ I think I know what happened!” he exclaimed.

Aziraphale stared up at him in a mixture of hope and trepidation. “Oh? What is it then? Is it serious?”

The demon bent over to help pull Aziraphale back to his feet.

“You ate so much shrimp that it turned your wings pink! Remember the flamingo exhibit? I’m guessing the same principle applies to angels!”

The angel gasped, affronted, and Crowley doubled over in great, heaving peals of laughter.

“I- wha-  _ shrimp _ ?!” screeched Aziraphale as Crowley’s hoots reached a new pitch.

“How much shrimp  _ do  _ you have to eat before you make your wings turn pink?”

Aziraphale pouted as he ran his fingers over his primaries. “You  _ did  _ try to warn me that eating too much of them would make me sick. I suppose this counts, in a way.”

Crowley managed to wrench himself back upright, but didn’t bother stifling his giggles.

“Eh, just give it time, angel, and they’ll fade back to white after a while. You’ll have to hold off on eating shrimp in the meantime or they’ll just keep staying pink,” he explained.

Aziraphale cast his eyes to the floor and mumbled something under his breath.

“Come again, sweetheart? I didn’t hear you-”

“I said  _ I don’t want to give up shrimp!” _ Aziraphale complained. “And besides I... I  _ like  _ the new color.”

He glanced up shyly through his eyelashes to meet his husband’s adoring gaze. Crowley stepped closer to thumb at the angel’s pink coverts. 

“I like them too…” He kissed the feathers. “...my little flamingo.”

“ _ CROWLEY!” _

**Author's Note:**

> Title (and one line of Crowley's dialogue) is taken from "Flamingo" by Kero Kero Bonito


End file.
